


A World Away

by Mistflyer1102



Series: Immortal Ties [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cameos, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Make-Believe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8613373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: All it takes is a little spark of imagination to create and live in a world away from your own.





	

She was near to the crumbling grand staircase when the screams abruptly stopped.

Peggy Carter fell absolutely still just a few feet away from where the corridor transformed into the ornate stone balcony that overlooked the large entrance hall. The castle, tucked away in the German countryside, had been falling to pieces long before the Allies had discovered its location while searching for its master. A search that had started with numerous people disappearing from the surrounding towns and villages, before it claimed the life of a few Allied soldiers that had been accompanying the Howling Commandoes in a surgical strike against several key Hydra troops. Not that the Commandoes had fared better. Peggy glanced behind her to ensure that the last surviving Commando remained not too far behind her, and she felt the tension ease from her shoulders when she spotted Gabriel Jones using a nearby stone pillar for cover.

She followed his example a second later when the walls seemed to shake as a bomb— _theirs, ours, does it matter anymore?_ —exploded too close to the castle walls. She swallowed, mouth dry as she readjusted her grip on the empty rifle and began to creep forward towards the balcony again. She had yet to see any evidence since her arrival that would suggest that the master of the house and Allied target, a Prussian aristocrat named the Baron, was even at home. All they had were disappearances and rumors, faint whispers of a chosen successor to the Red Skull that was creating a new and indestructible army of soldiers who could feel no fear. Where the Third Reich would fall, Hydra would rise.

_We are so close, Steve. So close to a victory, yet so far away._

Peggy swallowed, trying to push back the dulled hurt and grief that had haunted her ever since Steve had died in the North Atlantic. She looked down the corridor past the staircase that led to the last unexplored wing on the east side of the castle. Local intelligence reports indicated that something would happen there every night, accompanied by lights and loud noises, not including the screams of the taken.

 _“It’s as though Hell itself opened to the mortal world,”_ one shopkeeper had quietly remarked to Gabriel, who had translated the comment to the rest of the Commandoes. Peggy had learned quickly, though, that Hell started at the front door of the very castle the Commandoes had infiltrated as the Allies tried to take the property by force outside. A hidden trapdoor had claimed Dum Dum Dugan almost right away, while a tripwire caught James Falsworth and Jacques Dernier less than forty minutes later. Peggy clung to the hope that they were still alive, even as the Commando numbers continued to dwindle. Before the hidden door slid into place to trap Morita, he’d told Peggy to finish the mission at any cost and stop the Baron before he could make his own strike against the Allies and prolong the war.

_But I’ll be damned if I lose you too._

Slowly exhaling as she retreated back into the safety of the corridor, Peggy knelt and rested the rifle across her knees. She tried to swallow back a twinge of worry when she saw that she was out of ammunition, and then glanced up to see Gabriel frowning as he checked his own rifle. “Are you out of ammunition as well?” she asked quietly as he reached blindly back to a utility pouch.

He nodded, glancing back down the hall. “Normally, I would be taking the ammo or weapons from the enemy soldiers, less for them to use. But all of the Baron’s men must be outside now,” he said, gesturing ahead with his chin to the balcony that Peggy remembered overlooked the grand entrance hall.

Peggy frowned as she brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. “I still think that there’s a trap with soldiers in the east wing, it’s the only place we haven’t searched yet,” she whispered, setting the rifle on the ground for a moment so she could think. “Those traps from earlier…I feel as though those were meant to deter anyone from just entering. The Baron definitely wasn’t expecting us, but I’m surprised that this entire place isn’t overrun with activity, especially with an invasion force in front of his home.”

Gabriel snorted. “Maybe he’s gathering his indestructible army, he’s got a force to test them against,” he said, raising an eyebrow when Peggy scowled at him. “Well, do you have a better idea?” he asked, spreading his hands.

“Maybe his army _is_ the trap,” Peggy said, frowning as she glanced back towards the east wing.

Without warning, more screams, louder this time, ripped through the air. Peggy flinched, feeling a chill run down her spine as she heard one scream dissolve into sobs before fading away as another lingered for a few moments. “In any case, we won’t learn anything by waiting here. Let’s go, the sooner we find the Baron, the sooner we can end this once and for all and more importantly, find the others,” she said quietly, picking the rifle up once more. She may have no ammunition, but she could always improvise. She glanced back at Gabriel in time to see him stand up as well. “Ready to go spring a trap?” she asked, grinning faintly despite herself when Gabriel squared his shoulders and gripped his rifle as he looked at her.

“Always,” he replied with a grin.

Peggy first checked around the corner, scanning the immediate surroundings to ensure that the main entrance hall was empty and that it was safe to cross the balcony. Rain splattered against the large bay windows that overlooked the front grounds, half hidden by faded tapestries that helped the darkened skies outside obscure the Allied troops that were still fighting to keep the Baron’s attention off of the small covert team inside the fortress. On the marble floors below, she recognized the threadbare rugs still concealing the trapdoor, still rumpled on a corner that Dugan had disturbed upon entry. Faded, moth-eaten curtains covered the bay windows facing the east and west sides of the entry hall, swaying ever so slightly as rain-swept winds whistled through broken glass.

Feeling only marginally reassured that no guards or soldiers lay in wait, Peggy signaled Gabriel: they would have to move quickly and quietly. It would only take a moment for the tides to turn against them. With a final glance at Gabriel, who only gripped his rifle tighter, Peggy hesitated for only a brief second— _now or never_ —before she finally darted across the balcony, never looking away from the closed door ahead.

She was halfway across when Gabriel suddenly shouted, “Peggy!”

“Trip!” she shouted without thinking, twisting around to face Gabriel only to stumble backwards as she fought to regain her balance. She let out a shriek a few seconds later as she collided into a larger, bulkier figure, her heart leaping into her throat as the newcomer easily spun the two of them into their forward momentum. Then he steadied her with unsure hands, giving Peggy only a moment to catch her breath before the stranger clamped his hand over her mouth. She wrinkled her nose at the faint smell of peanut butter, but swallowed as she tried to regain her composure despite the familiar _click_ that echoed in the corridor behind the stranger.

The newcomer seemed to hear it as well; his entire back stiffened even as he put a finger to his lips, blue eyes never looking away from her. Peggy vaguely registered his odd clothing—a wide-brimmed hat, a trenchcoat of some sort, and a ridiculously long multi-colored scarf draped around his neck—as the man slowly turned to face Gabriel, who remained tensed with the rifle in his hand. The man held up a finger to Peggy, and when she nodded out of a loss of what to do next, he slowly turned to face Gabriel. “There are two armies on the front lawn. Whose side are the two of you on?” he asked in a whisper, the familiar British accent surprisingly comforting to Peggy’s ears.

“Allies. You?” Gabriel said before Peggy could react.

The man inclined his head. “Allies, as is my traveling companion,” he said, careful to keep his voice down as he looked past Peggy’s shoulder. She glanced back to find only the door that had been her original destination, thankfully still closed. “Unfortunately, it appears that my companion has wandered off yet again, they always seem to even though I tell them not to” he said, frowning as he glanced down the staircase at the front hall.

Gabriel frowned. “Who didja say you were again?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion.

The man let out a huff of impatience as he fluffed out his coat. “I am the Doctor, and my companion’s name is Sarah Jane Smith. Now let’s go find out what the Baron is doing in his secret lab,” he said, glancing between the two of them before he gestured for tehm to follow him. Peggy glanced at Gabriel, who still looked confused before he shrugged both shoulders and began to follow the Doctor. She followed his example a few seconds later, still clutching her rifle even as she fell in step beside the Doctor.

For a few moments, they walked in silence. Peggy noticed that the Doctor was fiddling with a silver tube that had a light on one end and all sorts of buttons around the tube itself. She kept her mouth shut despite her questions, still worried that the Baron’s men lurked nearby waiting for the first sound to give away the team’s position. The Doctor seemed preoccupied, glancing occasionally over the railing as though searching for his Sarah Jane Smith. Gabriel hummed to himself as he ran a hand lightly over the railing; Peggy resisted the urge to join him since she didn’t want the song stuck in her head for the rest of the day. The door seemed to inch closer with every step, and Peggy suddenly worried about how angry High Command was going to be once they found out about this mission. For some reason she couldn’t quite pin down, she had a gut feeling that the excuse ‘it was a rescue mission’ wasn’t going to go over well…oh well. She’d worry about it if it happened.

Next thing she knew, the three of them were standing in front of the door. She could feel goosebumps forming down her arms as they listened carefully for any sign of life on the other side of the door. She didn’t know about the other two, but she could only hear the muffled noises from the activity outside. She finally glanced at the Doctor, who was pointing the silver tube at the doorknob, muttering something under his breath. “Have you ever been inside?” she finally whispered, stepping to the side so Gabriel could get a better look at what the Doctor was doing.

The Doctor shrugged a shoulder. “Only once. I got into trouble after,” he said, smiling as the silver tube made a soft beeping sound. “There’s a place where we can hide inside, we just have to get past the fearsome Captain Redbeard ‘cause he’s always guarding the room.”

Peggy resisted the urge to shudder at the mention of the feared chief security officer; she had only seen him once a few days ago on a recon mission, and that was enough for her. “Okay, so we all have to be very quiet,” she said as the Doctor straightened his back.

“Very, _very,_ quiet,” Gabriel corrected, and Peggy nodded. One racket, and the Baron’s soldiers would swarm them.

The Doctor then took a deep breath, and then reached for the doorknob.

Only to freeze when the handle moved downwards on its own accord.

“Uh-oh,” Gabriel whispered, backing away from the door. Peggy sucked in a breath, heart hammering in her ears.

 

When the door swung open to reveal a large figure, the three of them _screamed_.

 

Reality snapped back in clear focus. Sherrinford ‘Ford’ Holmes recovered his wits first, screaming, “ _It’s the kraken!”_ before he disappeared from Sharon Carter’s side. His prized scarf, a gift from a friend, fluttered to the ground as he disentangled himself in order to escape the imminent danger as fast as his short legs would allow. Antoine ‘Trip’ Triplett, only a year older than Sharon and Ford at six years old, let out a screech and dropped the umbrella he’d been using for their game before he ran as well, shouting “ _Come on,_ Sharon!” Sharon, momentarily frozen in place with terror, snapped back to reality at Trip’s cry. Without thinking, she dropped her own umbrella and charged forward, lowering her head at the same time she let out another scream.

“What the—”

Sharon let out another screech as her world suddenly tilted sharply in the same moment her head connected with her target’s stomach, which was surprisingly soft for a kraken. She dimly heard Ford shouting, “Retreat! Sharon, run!”, and with renewed energy, she climbed off of what she now recognized as Mycroft Holmes. She started to run, but paused and went back to the prone figure on the ground to make sure that Mycroft wasn’t actually dead. Before she could reach him, however, the Holmes family dog, an Irish setter named Redbeard, jumped on top of Mycroft. The boy let out a yelp as Redbeard began licking his face, and Sharon used that moment of distraction to run to where Ford and Trip both waited impatiently at the top of the stairs.

“Go! I have to rescue my scarf! Go find the secret passageway out of here!” Ford shouted, already taking off back down the hall as Sharon stopped to catch her breath.

“ _What_ secret passageway?” Trip complained as he began to jump down the stairs two at a time even though Aunt Peggy and his mother had all told him not to several times already.

“I dunno, maybe Uncle Arthur knows, it’s his house,” Sharon said, panting as she tried to keep up with Trip even though she could barely reach the next step while holding onto the railing. Just like Mommy showed her…although Sharon was breaking the ‘adults-need-to-be-present’ part of Mommy’s rules. So she couldn’t really tattle on Trip now.

Trip was fidgeting at the bottom of the stairs by the time Sharon got both feet safely on stable ground. “Come on, we’re gonna get into trouble!” he whined, taking Sharon’s hand and pulling her towards the living room. Sharon could still hear the grownups talking, Uncle Alfred’s loud voice nearly drowning out Aunt Peggy’s quieter tones as Mommy gasped at something. Then Sharon heard the heavy footsteps approaching to where she and Trip stood at the bottom of the stairs.

She suddenly felt scared of getting caught. “Let me go! It’s _this_ way!” she shrieked, yanking her arm out of Trip’s grip when she spotted the front door. She could see the front step and the sunny lawn outside: Uncle Arthur stood in between her and freedom, his legs slightly spread in what Trip once called ‘parade rest’. Uncle Arthur once told her that he had eyes in the back of his head, but Sharon hoped that she was small enough for him to not notice her. She started to run, thinking she heard someone shout after her—the voice sounded like Daddy’s—but she only ran faster, even letting go of Trip’s hand to get ahead of him.

Then Uncle Arthur stepped to the side, getting out of her way.

Sharon squealed in delight, looking up in time to see Uncle Arthur immediately leaning down with his hands stretched out. She giggled and chirped, “Too slow!” as she darted past, even managing to dodge a swipe. “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, can’t catch me!” she sang, her joy at escape promptly turning to shock when a pair of strong hands caught her around her middle and scooped her up into the air.

“No!” she screeched, struggling as her captor turned her around so that she was braced against his hip, an arm wrapped around her waist. “Put me _down!_ ” she snapped in the man’s ear, flinching when the brim of his white hat bumped into her forehead. “Put me down _now!”_ she repeated, grabbing the man’s red scarf for support even as the man turned to her with a half-smile on his face.

“I am sorry, my dear. I just didn’t think poor Arthur would feel like chasing you and your friend across the lawn,” he said with a light accent that Sharon couldn’t place. He seemed amused as Sharon glanced at Uncle Arthur, who was struggling to keep a squirming Trip in place on the threshold.

Sharon frowned, and turned her attention back to the man. “Trip is my _cousin_ ,” she corrected, wrinkling her nose as she let go of the man’s scarf to hold onto his white coat instead. She briefly frowned when she saw that he was holding an umbrella in his other hand, but had to duck a second later to avoid the hat brim again.

“Yes, my apologies. I was merely sparing Arthur the trouble of chasing you and your cousin this afternoon,” the man said, leaning his umbrella against his leg before reaching for the top of his hat.

He pulled it off, and then offered it to Sharon, who reached up and took the hat, gingerly placing it on her own head. She tightened her grip on his coat when the hat slid down over her eyes, and heard soft laughter to her left. Confused, she pushed the hat up far enough so she could lean back and look for the source. She blinked when she caught sight of a young, dark-haired woman standing just behind the man, on his other side. Sharon briefly wondered if the woman knew Uncle Alfred—she wore a leather jacket like he did—but she ducked back behind the man’s shoulder when she realized that the woman was looking back at her.

“Well, unfortunately, I am still going to have to chase someone if I’m not ready. There’s usually three of them,” Uncle Arthur grumbled as he managed to finally convince Trip to stay put. “Alistair, would you mind?” he asked, nudging Trip towards two men in soldier uniforms that Sharon hadn’t noticed earlier. The older one of the two knelt down in front of Trip, who seemed too awestruck in that moment to think about running even though he was technically free. Sharon frowned as she studied the two soldier men, and then she looked back at the man holding her, and then at the woman beside him. No uniforms. _How did they all know each other?_

“Are you and her secret agents?” she asked, tilting her head when the man looked at her.

“Do you think we are?” the man asked, mirroring the tilt of her head with his own.

Sharon frowned, trying to remember everything that Mycroft had ever said about secret agents. “I don’t think so, ‘cause you and her aren’t dressed like them, and Mycroft said that usually secret agents are soldiers because they have to do dangerous stuff without getting caught,” she said, shrugging her shoulders as the man hummed to himself, like her father did when he got an idea.

“You are right, secret agents have to do dangerous things. But they could be from any occupation. Wouldn’t a soldier be noticed at a fancy dinner party?” the man asked, voice soft as he readjusted his hold on Sharon.

“Nuh-uh, because they’re _secret_ agents, so they wear disguises when they are working,” Sharon replied, frowning a little. Didn’t this man know _anything_ about secret agents? She thought he would, if he knew Uncle Arthur and worked with soldiers like the one talking to Trip. “They wear disguises so they can surprise the bad guys and help people,” she added, scowling when the man chuckled. Then, because she figured she’d never see these people again—she usually never saw Uncle Arthur’s ‘work friends’—Sharon announced, “ _I’m_ gonna be a secret agent so I can help people when I grow up, just like Aunt Peggy. Trip, Ford and I were practicing our sneaking skills today.”

“And I’m fairly certain that Sherrinford is practicing his running skills right now. Assuming he doesn’t trip and tangle himself in that blo— _scarf_ of his,” Uncle Arthur said, catching Sharon’s attention when he seemed to change his mind about his words. “I also think that your parents would prefer that you chose an alternative way to help people that is a bit safer,” he said, leaning with his back against the doorframe, his arms loosely crossed in front of him.

“If Sharon does it, then so will I!” Trip piped up from where he’d sat down on the front step.

Uncle Arthur arched a brow. “And if Sharon broke a rule, would you do that too?” he asked.

“Yep!”

Uncle Arthur sighed as one of the soldier men chuckled and the woman in the jacket coughed. “Forget I asked,” he muttered under his breath.

A flicker of movement caught Sharon’s eye. She looked up, craned her neck to better see into the house, and then straightened when she saw a panicking Ford running towards them. “Ford, no!” she shrieked, wrapping a hand around the neck of the man holding her to steady herself. “No! Go away! It’s a traaaaap!” she howled as Uncle Arthur immediately turned and sank into a crouch, hands outstretched to catch Ford. Ford let out a screech, but still tumbled into Uncle Arthur’s arms, squealing when Uncle Arthur picked him up. Sharon let out a groan, smacking her palm over her eyes like she’d seen her father do when his favorite baseball team lost the game on TV.

“Arthurrrrr,” Ford whined as Uncle Arthur began to scoop up the extra length of scarf that had dropped to the ground, looping it around his arm. Ford managed to get a hand on Uncle Arthur’s face, as though to push him away, and Sharon heard Uncle Arthur mutter something about Ford and the peanut butter sandwich crackers that Uncle Alfred had brought to the gathering.

“Lovely scarf. Reminds me of one that a friend of mine used to own,” the soldier with Trip remarked with a smile.

“Yes, I still wonder to this day how he got it,” Uncle Arthur said as he draped the extra fabric over his shoulder, glaring briefly at the man holding Sharon. The man chuckled, and Uncle Arthur shook his head before glancing back into the house. “Alfred!”

Ford twisted around to glare at Uncle Arthur as Sharon giggled. “My friend gave it to me,” Ford said, the protest dissolving into a mumble as he twisted around to bury his face into Uncle Arthur’s sweater, hands clutching the scarf.

“Don’t worry, we believe you,” the man holding Sharon assured him.

Sharon nodded eagerly. She still remembered when Ford told her about the mystery man and his spaceship that had appeared in Ford’s house, and left not too long after, taking all the really scary nightmares with him.

She looked up again when she heard heavy footsteps, and let out a squeal when Uncle Alfred appeared, wearing his leather jacket and blue eyes bright with mischief. “Alfred, there’s a football in the garage. Take these three and go kick it around for a couple of hours while I make sure that the country isn’t about to fall apart on my one weekend off,” Uncle Arthur said, passing Ford over to Uncle Alfred.

“Sure, no problem.” Uncle Alfred inclined his head to the two soldier men as the one with Trip stood up again, allowing Trip to wiggle past him. The man holding Sharon shifted his grip and started to lower her to the ground. She squirmed, but Uncle Alfred caught her hand the moment her feet touched the ground. “Thank you, Mister…?” Uncle Alfred began, arching a brow at the man in the white coat as he took his hat back from Sharon.

“Doctor, actually. And this young lady here is Ace McShane,” the man— _Doctor,_ Sharon corrected herself—said, gesturing to the woman beside him.

“Ma’am.” Uncle Alfred glanced briefly at the Doctor in confusion, his brow furrowing his brow for a second before turning to the other two men. “Alistair, John, it’s always good to see you both even though it’s usually when the world is ending,” he said cheerfully as he nudged Sharon forward. “Come on, munchkins, let’s go find that ball and play _soccer_.”

“What’s soccer?” Ford asked, the word distracting him from his scarf.

Sharon heard laughter behind her as she was led away towards the garage. She glanced back over her shoulder to see the adults watching, smiles of fondness and amusement from Uncle Arthur, Alistair, and the Doctor. She frowned as she studied the Doctor. That couldn’t be his real name. It wasn’t even a name. It had to be another name… a code name?

Wait.

A work friend of Uncle Arthur’s, who knew soldiers, had a code name and wore a funny outfit…a disguise.

_A secret agent._

Sharon gasped and began jumping up and down, nearly tripping Uncle Alfred and Ford. She grinned when she made eye contact with the Doctor, and mouthed, ‘ _I won’t tell your secret_ ’.

Her smile grew when the Doctor blinked in confusion, but she then turned around again, tugging her hand free so she could go chase Trip to the garage.

She couldn’t believe she got to meet another secret agent!


End file.
